


Reforming

by Zaniida



Series: Creepyfest 2019 [2]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Additional Tags May Be Added, Eldritch Grandmaster, Existential Terror, Gen, Helplessness, Memory Alteration, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-consensual Modification
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-07 14:44:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20977631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaniida/pseuds/Zaniida
Summary: Thor and the Beast have fled, taking with them the Grandmaster's favorite bounty hunter, and leaving Loki to take the brunt of his displeasure.Except… the Grandmaster seems more amused than displeased.





	1. Out of the Fire…

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loxxlay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loxxlay/gifts), [Lise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/gifts).

> Loxxlay and Lise, thank you for your marvelous forays into the darker side of Sakaar.
> 
> This piece is part of Creepyfest, and meant to be a fairly short fic (a handful of short chapters) with some intense moments. There's no sexual side or torture, but it's not meant to be comfortable, and I hope you'll enjoy the exploration of this idea.
> 
> _I'd like to reiterate that I am never stingy with my ideas, and I do encourage people to build on anything I publish. This piece in particular should set up a potentially chilling, potentially intriguing scenario, but I'm not going to take the time to delve too far into the ramifications (way too many other projects to work on), so if anyone wants to take the idea and run with it, go right ahead_.

The fire has consumed him for so long, burning him from the inside out, that it takes him a few moments to realize that the pain has stopped. He feels weak, wrung out, muscles still twitching, lungs shuddering with the need for air they can’t seem to grasp.

Blinking up at the ceiling, so high above him, he gradually comes to the awareness that someone must have turned off the shock disc; he couldn’t be lucky enough for it to simply run out of power. Has Thor come back for him?

Or the guards. They shot a lot of guards. There was an alarm… they probably know who to look for—

Weakly, he tries to move, to sit up or roll onto hands and knees, _something_ useful—evade the guards, get out of the city—but his muscles aren’t working right, as if he’s just gotten back from a trek through Muspelheim and it’s the first time in weeks that he’s been able to rest. His eyes are scratchy, barely ready to see again, and his flesh feels raw and crisp and dried out, like a sunburn—the kind of burn that sends you to the healers to deal with blisters and infection.

“These aren’t supposed to be used like this,” a voice murmurs disapprovingly, and a chill runs down Loki’s spine. “Mostly they’re just to, to incapacitate, or a quick, uh, reminder. Five minutes, maybe, if you want to really drive the point home; I never designed them to be used for _hours_.” The Grandmaster gives an irritated huff. “Seems you’re pretty hardy, Lolo. Anyone else would be _dead_.”

_I woke up this morning thinking about a public execution_. The words ring in Loki’s ears, part of their last conversation, just a few hours ago—more than enough to convince Loki that he’s worn out his welcome on Sakaar. And now, despite his best efforts, he’s back in the Grandmaster’s clutches, without Thor or the Beast to bargain with. They’re long gone, along with the man’s favorite bounty hunter, just to rub salt in the wound.

And Loki’s left to take the brunt of his displeasure. If he knows that Loki had a hand in Thor’s escape—

Even if Loki could get up, he wouldn’t get far, not with the obedience disc in his neck. Maybe he could get down on his knees and beg the Grandmaster for another chance… abase himself, promise _anything_—but the painful croaks coming out of his throat aren’t anything like his renowned ‘silver tongue’.

“No, no, shhh,” the Grandmaster croons, pressing a finger to Loki’s lips. “Don’t try to talk. You’ll just hurt yourself.”

He doesn’t sound angry or particularly troubled, but Loki knows too well how mercurial the man can be; his displeasure is nothing to be trifled with. 

And then the world lurches, and Loki’s stomach clenches

and he struggles weakly against

but it’s just the Grandmaster, lifting him in his arms like a baby, carrying him away. He wouldn’t have thought that the man could lift him, let alone with this much ease.

Loki’s weak enough that he can’t lift his own head, and it pounds fiercely from being upside down.

Again, he tries—to protest, to explain, to find some way out of the situation—but there’s no words coming out, just clumsy attempts at sound, and again the Grandmaster shushes him. Loki’s eyes fall closed on his own tears; has he ever been this helpless before? Even after the Beast attacked him, he was at least still able to _talk_.

“Your poor throat,” the Grandmaster murmurs, and then a hand is supporting Loki’s head, and a glass is being pressed to his lips. “It’ll help,” he says.

The Grandmaster’s concoctions aren’t always pleasant, but Loki’s learned better than to deny him. Besides, he’s too weary to even question it, too weary to do anything but open his mouth.

The liquid slides down his throat, oily and cold, soothing and burning at once.

“There we go,” the Grandmaster says approvingly, as Loki wonders where the man keeps his drinks. Does he have access to some extradimensional portal like Loki does?

He’s never directly observed the Grandmaster using any powers, but there have been oddities, now and again—too many times to dismiss—that have convinced him there’s something more going on. Perhaps it’s the sort of tricks you pick up when you’re millions of years old. At least, the Grandmaster has _claimed_ to be millions of years old, and Loki can’t discount the possibility, because there’s something very… _singular_ about the man. More than just eccentric. A quiet sort of danger, like a spider watching to see if you’re foolish enough to venture into her web.

Before he can go much further with that line of thought, the world hazes around him.

“Rest now,” the Grandmaster’s voice drifts to him, as if from far away. “Everything’s about to change.”


	2. This, Too, Shall Pass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn’t expect it so, uh, so soon. Usually takes a few centuries to fall apart like this. Don’t get me wrong, I live for variety, it’s just… I’m gonna miss this setup. It was going pretty good. Still, you live long enough, you learn to value a little change now and then. A little, uh, a little unpredictability.” Looking back at Loki, he smiles almost painfully. “All things must come to an end, I suppose.
> 
> “All things but me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh, this past week has been a _bear_. But I've been chugging away at various Creepyfest projects, and I did get to spend two days with my beta reader and some time with two separate backup betas (one of whom might be moving into a more "official" position, as opposed to just "friend I strong-armed into helping me"). So, things are progressing, just not as fast as I would like (what else is new?).
> 
> Anyway, it's time to bring this little piece all the way around to the creepy, so here goes…

Footsteps

and

muttering.

It takes him a while to connect the sensations to memory. The Grandmaster’s footsteps, pacing back and forth. The Grandmaster’s voice… the words are too hard to grasp, but there’s something… different… about the cadence. Loki can’t make it out.

When he tries to sit up, though, the Grandmaster is suddenly there, a hand on his chest, pinning him down. Loki goes still, blinking back tears against the too-bright lights.

“Shhh, relax,” the man murmurs, brushing fingers gently down Loki’s cheek. “Don’t get up. It’s, uh, it’s pretty hectic out there, but you’re safe in here. With me. It’s the one place they can’t reach.”

Hectic?

Oh, Norns, the _revolution_.

Loki hadn’t expected it to get very far, not against the Grandmaster’s guards; it had merely been a convenient distraction. But if the Grandmaster’s been thrust out of power…

_That’s_ what’s different. In the muttering. When the Grandmaster isn’t annoyed or raging, he’s only got one setting: amused self-assurance. As the leader of the planet, he’s got all the power; his whim is law. But now…

“You’re so _tense_,” the Grandmaster says reprovingly—though with a hint of unexpected fondness to his tone. “Even with a little liquid relaxation. That’s not, um, it’s not good for you, getting all keyed up like that. Especially now.”

The amusement’s… not gone. Different. Same with the confidence, like it’s quieter, and strangely off-key. Accepting. The Grandmaster doesn’t _accept_ things; when anything displeases him, he turns coldly lethal—or worse. Dealing with a slave revolt and the escape of his favorite pets? Execution might be a _mercy_.

Then again, Loki’s never seen the man without his usual authority. Is he coming to terms with no longer being in charge—or quietly scheming for how to reclaim his station?

Loki’s best efforts had failed to dig up much of Sakaar’s history, and nothing that spoke of a time before the Grandmaster’s reign; it’s a planet without a history, aside from the Grandmaster’s sweeping claims about the Contest of Champions. And without knowing how the man got to power in the first place, it would be impossible to predict how easily he might regain it.

Which means that, even now, Loki can’t risk rousing his ire.

And it might already be too late to avoid that.

“Grandmaster—” he croaks out, but the Grandmaster taps his lips again.

“You know, you’d think—after all I’ve done for you, all I’m about to do for you—you’d think you’d have learned to _trust_ me.” He frowns. “I’m gonna _need_ your trust, Lolo. We’ve got a whole new, uh, a whole new _world_ to set up.”

Glancing out toward something Loki can’t see, the Grandmaster sighs again, wistfully this time. “I didn’t expect it so, uh, so soon,” he says. “Usually takes a few centuries to fall, uh, to fall apart like this. Don’t get me wrong, I live for variety, it’s just… I’m gonna miss this setup. It was going pretty good.” Looking back at Loki, he smiles almost painfully. “All things must come to an end, I suppose.

“All things but me.”

A shiver runs down Loki’s spine at the odd weariness in the man’s eyes, the hunger. As so many times before, he wants to get away from the man, to run off somewhere safe and comfortable, to hide.

As so many times before, he stays put, forcing back the terror, relaxing into a situation he abhors, and concealing his true feelings behind the social masks he’s always been so good at. In other circumstances, he might have fled across the branches of Yggdrasil, found his way to better surroundings, but he is stuck here, so far removed from the Nine Realms and the well of energy that used to fuel his seidr. On Sakaar, he must get by on his natural energy, conserving his powers—and he dares not let the Grandmaster learn about them. The man is far too fond of new toys.

But staying here, in the Grandmaster’s power, would mean laying himself open to whatever fate the man sees fit to give him, and it’s likely not a pleasant one. So his options are to accept that, or to wait for a chance to slip away. Or, perhaps, to physically overpower the man… but as satisfying as it sounds in his head, that would mean burning any bridges he has left—a dangerous gambit if he’s forced to remain on the planet.

The Grandmaster hums, and there’s a glass in his hand again, hovering near Loki’s mouth. “You’ll need to, uh, _relax_ for this next part,” the man says with an unnerving grin, and Loki knows from long experience that it’s dangerous to flat-out refuse. And if he can’t talk his way out, fight his way out, or slip out unnoticed, what choice does he really have? He opens his mouth.

The liquid is bright and shivery on his tongue, poured in a little at a time so he can swallow it without choking. It’s citrus-like, but otherwise it doesn’t taste or feel like anything he’s had before. The effect, though, is nearly instantaneous, and he finds himself relaxing back into the cushions, his resistance draining away.

“There we go,” the Grandmaster drawls, and pats his cheek. “You _worry_ too much, Lolo. I know you, uh, you like to predict things. Always aware of the threats, even if you can’t do, uh, you can’t do anything about them. You would have done great in the arena; Asgardians are fun that way.”

A sliver of dread pushes through the drink haze. It takes Loki a moment to realize that the Grandmaster has dropped his mocking butchery of ‘Asgard’, and is even correctly using the gentilic to talk about the people. So he’s encountered others from Asgard, and surely more than just the Valkyrie who’d been trying to deny her homeland.

“Still, you live long enough, you learn to value a little change now and then. A little, uh, a little unpredictability. Time to try on a new role for a while… see what it’s like in different shoes. And for that…”

The Grandmaster gracefully sinks down by Loki, settling in and placing one hand on his chest again, immovable as Mjolnir. The other hand brushes back Loki’s hair before resting on his forehead.

“For that, it’s time to get inside your head.”

Before Loki’s brain catches up to the threat, there’s a quick, unbearable pressure, and something slipping inside him—not physical, but just as visceral a feeling, his entire being filling up with thick slime. With sudden panic, he stares up at the Grandmaster, no longer seeing the room or the outward shell but the true nature of the being who holds his life in its hands, immense and harrowing and distorted beyond all recognition, not just as the Grandmaster but as anything alive and real.

Frozen in sheer atavistic terror, he can’t even struggle as the bits of his psyche get teased apart, and then there’s something reaching in, grasping at his core, pulling forth a piece of his essence like a string and twisting it around a piece of the Grandmaster that glows like moonlight flickering through a tornado.

The instant the connection is made, Loki—

— _f e e l s_ —

Even this closely, he can only make out a fraction of the reality, but the being is old beyond measure, as aged and ageless as the universe itself and just as unkillable, its psyche cracked and reformed as it has found ways to adapt itself to the pitiless weight of piled-up millennia. Just a taste of that enormity has Loki pressed down into the cushions, gasping against the knowledge he can’t cope with. For all that he thinks of himself as a god, the distance between the Grandmaster and him is unfathomably greater than any superficial distance between him and the mortals around them.

The awareness is too immense; he can’t bear it, and gathers up his seidr to flee, but the impulse is smothered before he can even attempt it, the Grandmaster’s hands reaching deep inside him again, the violation unendurable, and he—

_There_, the voice echoes through his entire being, awareness more than words. _I see you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if this'll have another update before the end of the month. I know where I want to go with it, establishing the basic idea, but several other projects ought to be taking precedence right now.
> 
> _Unseen Things_ should get an update _fairly_ soon (I hope), and _Before the Norns_ before the end of the month, if all goes well. I'm hoping for two updates apiece, but that might not be realistic, and _Unseen Things_ has been expanding a bit (why do I even bother planning these things out? sigh). Definitely won't get to the end of the tale by the end of the month, though I can still hope to get to the major cliffhanger ^_^
> 
> Remember, if you post a fill for my [July Prompt](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19431457/chapters/46245532), you get to cast votes on which fics make my Priority List! Deadline is Halloween, and the challenge is just to push outside your comfort zone a bit and create something in a medium you're not familiar with and/or not skilled at. Weird projects and one-shots are the aim! Even if it's just recording audio of you and a friend acting out your favorite dialog (from canon or from a fic), or making some sewing project or food art, pretty much anything counts, so give it a shot ^_^

**Author's Note:**

> I am currently suffering from a critical lack of beta reader. It's making me slower and more hesitant than I would otherwise be, and I'm not sure how much it'll impact my output during Creepyfest here. But the original idea was to post two Major and two Minor projects during the month (thus equally covering my two main fandoms), and possibly some Tertiary projects as well; this is one of the Minor projects. I doubt I'll finish it within the month, but it all depends on where the Muse takes me.
> 
> And how often I work on _Tremble and Serve_ instead of on actual Creepyfest projects. But eh.


End file.
